This Wicked Magic (16 page)

“Seriously? CJ, when our skin touches it hums with our combined magic. But this hand covered in spellwork? It’s the same touch, but quadrupled in intensity.”

“I had no idea. How about this?”

He glided between her legs and inside her, and it was as if an instrument heated and hardened and designed to get her off. Two fingers, not a sex toy. Vika worked her hips and glided up and down upon him, wanting to own every sensation, to steal his magic for her own pleasure. “Oh, yes, touch me like that.”

“You’re so hot,” he murmured against her breast, his tongue slipping across her nipple. “I can feel our combined magic, too. Makes every part of me burn. Show me how you like it, Vika.”

“I’d like it with your pants off and you inside me. Quickly, I want to come with you deep inside me.”

He shuffled out of his pants and Vika straddled him. His face was a riot of color from the overhead crystals, his eyes closed as he glided inside her, his hands gripping her hips firmly. Seared by his heat, Vika slapped her hands to the back of the couch, feeling him deep within her, so thick, filling her, radiating within as their magics joined forces and the hum of their connection reached a heady vibration.

He had but to shift his hips and thrust inside her once, twice, then the climax overwhelmed and he bucked her up and down upon his body as the dark witch swore to Hecate and then blessed her in the same breath.

“Pax, sax, sarax,” she whispered. An Elizabethan chant to prolong orgasm.

CJ thrust back his head, growling in delicious pleasure as she sensed the orgasm renewed, surrounding him in its stunning grip. She surrendered and got wrapped in the threads of giddiness. They seemed to float, wrapped together, soaring over the floor, entwined in rapture.

Skin against skin, Vika breathed in CJ’s being, his breaths, his rapid heartbeats. She felt him,
knew
him—and then she felt the infestation. It roiled in wicked delight, snatching at her with claws that couldn’t reach yet were so close.

Pulling away from him, she leaned over his blissful smile. Breathing heavily, she shook her head. What a way to come down. Chased by demons. He couldn’t be aware of what she had felt. She didn’t want him to know.

“Amazing,” he murmured, and blew her a kiss.

Vika nodded and had to struggle with her sudden fear to lean forward and rest her head against his shoulder. They were safe under the light. She hoped.

Chapter 11

CJ
woke, not because it was morning and the light nudged him awake—his circadian rhythm had given up the ghost months earlier—but because his body generally woke after a few hours’ rest. The daylight paled in comparison with the cacophony of prismatic light, which always made him blink in disgust. He’d never get accustomed to the unnatural light.

His lifeline. Would he need it always?

They’d moved to the bed from the couch to continue their lovemaking. Turning onto his side, he looked over the sinuous, long lines of Vika’s body and marveled she could sleep under the light. Uncovered, lying on her back, from his side view her curves and lines were as if a sculpture done in porcelain. Each glide and rise of bone so subtle. At her small breasts the nipples were soft and like a tuft of crushed roses. Garnet hair spilled over the white sheets and his arm, and he stroked a few strands against his mouth, wondering if silk could ever feel so rich. The brilliant strands running over the black spellwork on his hand seemed to want to hide the darkness.

That she had forgiven his transgression against her with grace and heated desire spoke volumes for her character. She had seen beyond the demon and into
him.
He—Certainly Jones—was in there somewhere. He just needed to rise above, without having to build a chandelier umbrella to carry about after sunset.

It wasn’t fair to her. She shouldn’t have to endure his demons merely for a part of him. He might ever be able to give her only a part. Never the whole Certainly Jones. Not so long as Pain and War and others resided within.

Sighing, he turned to his other side, putting his back to her. Pulled in two directions, his heart wanted to wrap a big bow about Viktorie St. Charles and embroider his name on the ribbon. He would braid the ribbon into a spell and knot it on both ends so it would bind them forever. Yet his tormented soul wanted to hurt her, to see how far he could push the red witch and learn how much that would please him.

A good man would dress her and push her out the doorway, and then change his address and set up wards against her.

He’d never claimed goodness. The things he did were oftentimes selfish and egotistic. He wouldn’t deny that.

But he could see that denial had gotten him into this mess.

As it stood, if they remained together and opened their hearts to one another, that was doing nothing to remove his demons. Would the sex reversal spell he’d found torn from the grimoire in the archives work? The possibility to try it was more real now that they’d made love, but the idea of broaching the subject while lying in bed didn’t feel right to him. As well, he could not fathom allowing Vika to have sex with one of his demons, because the opportunity would present itself only when he was not in control of his body.

It was either try that or find more souls for Vika to shoot through him with her air magic.

Kisses tickled down his spine, and he closed his eyes to the delicious wonder of her tender regard. Truly, he’d been missing out on a lot over the decades not to have indulged in a relationship. He didn’t deserve her, but he wasn’t going to kick this luxury from his bed or his life. Only she could save him. He wasn’t too proud to admit he’d accept her help. If she would give it.

“I was thinking,” he said, as her kisses moved along his hip and up his torso. “Could I come along when you get another cleanup call?”

The kisses stopped and she moved in to spoon against him, wrapping her arm around and across his chest. “Yes. We’ll give that a try.”

He kissed her fingers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t. But for some reason, I am smitten by you, dark one.” She tumbled to her back and stroked her fingers as close to his cock as she could reach. “Wake me up with this marvelous wand of yours, witch.”

“As you command.” He turned and with but a few kisses fit himself inside her, and the twosome slowly welcomed the day. “It’s too good here,” he whispered. “Inside you. Don’t want it to end.”

“Why must it end?” Her body seemed to squeeze about his cock and Certainly clung to her hips, pulling her closer. “Don’t think beyond the moment, lover. You like this?”

He nodded, let out a tight moan.

“Then open yourself to me, and only me. Let’s cast a spell between us with this movement, this delicious tug and push of you inside me. Oh, CJ...”

Her breath hushed against his cheek. Her body stiffened against his, and her fingernails dug into his skin. He held her as orgasm swept through her like magic, and when it spilled out from her pores and into him, he cried out in joy.

Be damned, wicked demons. He would hold this light in his arms as long as he was able.

* * *

CJ walked Vika out to her car. It was well after noon, and the sun beamed white high in the sky. It warmed the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Almost felt as tingly good as her hand did, the one clasped by CJ’s spellwork hand. She’d grown accustomed to the gentle hum when their skin touched, which was stronger when this particular hand touched her. It made her feel alive and vibrant.

And it also made her feel as if she belonged to him. That her magic responded to his so positively, and not dangerously, was a good thing. Stopping at her car door and clicking it unlocked, she turned and swung her lover’s hand. “Our mix of dark and light must offer the universe a balance it appreciates.”

“I was thinking something similar. We meld together well. No sparks, no reactive, vicious magic. It can sometimes be a problem for witches of opposites practices, or so I’ve heard.”

Vika touched the nail at her neck. “Apparently, grandmother approves.”

He kissed her and slid his hands down her hips, coaxing her against his body, the hardness of him making her moan and pull him tight against her. “That guy never rests, does he?”

He pumped his erection against her a few times. “Not around you, no. Is that a bad thing?”

“Bad?” She thought of how shocked her sister would be to learn she had finally made love with her bad-boy witch. “I’m not sure bad is so awful anymore. I kind of like your sexy badness, dark one.” Running her fingers through his hair, she drew out the length and pressed it to her cheek. “I don’t want to leave. Not you. Not this.” She nudged her hip against his erection.

“Return to me directly after the cleaning job, please?” He toed her shoe; he’d padded out barefoot.

“I will.” She slid inside behind the wheel, and CJ leaned in to kiss her. She couldn’t get enough of his commanding kisses. When his hair spilled over her face and neck, she felt as if he were marking her with a sweep of a midnight veil.

“Libby is waiting,” she reluctantly said, and he relented the passionate kiss.

“The shop fixed the ole hearse up nicely. I’ll pay you for the damages because it was my fault— What’s this?” He rubbed his thumb on the dashboard and showed her the rusty-brown color in the whorls. “Looks like—hell, is this blood?”

“I...don’t know. You were in the driver’s seat when we crashed. And afterward you did have dried blood on your forehead.”

“Shit. I forgot all about that.” He furiously rubbed at the blood, licked his fingers, and then rubbed some more. “Do you have some cleaning spray in the back?”

“I do right here in the glove compartment.” She retrieved the small spray bottle and cleaning cloth and handed it to him. “CJ, what’s got you so frantic over a drop of blood?”

“You know any witch can track you with your blood.”

“Yes, it’s associated with the soul, it binds oaths and gives witches power over one another.”

“Exactly. I never leave mine where it can be found and used.”

“I get that. But seriously, it’s a minute speck. What reason do you have to think someone is tracking you? Certainly?”

He gave the dashboard one last swipe and handed her the cleaning stuff. Not going to answer her question. And she sensed the answer must be a doozy.

“A secret?” she tried. She hadn’t known him long enough to delve into the complexity of a centuries-old dark witch. Though she’d thought they’d given one another their trust. “Fine. You have yours—I have mine. I should get going.”

“Don’t shut me out, Vika. I just can’t talk about it right now. I don’t even know if it’s anything to worry about. Will you cut me some slack?” He stroked his thumb along her cheek, his hope-filled gaze daring her to leave him in a huff.

She couldn’t. She wasn’t the kind of girl who stomped away over matters left undiscussed. “You going to tell me about it sooner, rather than later?”

He nodded. “See you after the job, Witch of My Dreams?”

“You’d better have dinner ready.” She blew him a kiss and pulled away, checking the rearview mirror as she did to find the tall silhouette of her dark witch coaxing her to turn around and kneel before him, to worship him, perhaps even...love.

* * *

At every turn he was confounded! The powdered blood on the map had led him to a neighborhood tucked behind the Luxembourg Gardens, and he sensed one of the vehicles had Certainly Jones’s blood on it or in it, because it made sense if he’d been in an accident. Yet once again, the blood dispersed, this time, blowing completely off the map, as if wiped clean.

Ian Grim looked up from the map. “He’s got to live around here somewhere.”

He summoned a raven to his shoulder and fed it the blood he’d processed for the spell. “Give me your eyes,” he said, drawing his senses outward to connect with the bird’s.

* * *

CJ felt the tracking spell as it tore away from the threshold of his loft. When had it affixed to the threshold? Possibly last night when Pain had been in control.

Not good.

Running to his spell table, he grabbed salt and devil’s bane and began to mix as he chanted a ward.

Grim was gaining on him.

He glanced to the kitchen, where the small bone whistle sat on the counter, warded from view by any others.

“I won’t let you get it, Grim. You don’t get to play with mortal lives anymore.”

Chapter 12

“T
his call is peculiar,” Vika said to CJ, who sat with legs straddling the stick shift in the middle of the hearse’s seat. Libby sat to his right, and hadn’t stopped grinning since they’d all crammed into the front—and only—seat. “It’s at Pére Lachaise. Never a good thing. Could involve ghouls or imps, probably demons.”

“Demons,” he muttered, clasping his hands into a ball between his legs. “Great. I’ll stay out of you ladies’ way and hope for the best.”

“So what’s your soul like, CJ?” Libby asked gaily. She smelled like sugar, which he liked, and her body nestled against his was all curves and softness, a direct contrast to Vika’s slender sleekness.

“Libby.”

“I mean, is it intact?” Libby continued, ignoring her sister’s admonishment. “Do the demons control it all the time? Do you know if you left Daemonia with a soul?”

Vika flashed the evil eye at her sister, but the rearview mirror was angled to catch CJ’s confused look. She rubbed a hand along his thigh, reassuringly.

“It’s in there,” he said. “But that’s about all I know. An incorporeal demon wouldn’t be able to hitch a ride if I hadn’t a soul.”

“That’s interesting. I wonder what it’ll be like after the demons are gone.”

“You’re thinking my soul will be left in tattered condition?”

“Probably. I don’t mean to be rude, but you know...”

“It’s one of the drawbacks of practicing the dark magic,” he offered. “My soul has never been clean, at least not your sister’s definition of clean.”

Vika cast him a wonky look, but he merely shrugged at her. The idea that they had attracted one another—dark to light—was something he wasn’t going to argue.

Libby asked, “Why do you practice dark magic?”